


If I Have To, I'ma Be That Bitch (I'm That Motherfuckin' Bitch)

by ghostlygone



Series: Dark AU's [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger, BTW, Blood, Character Death, Dark, Dark!Eleven - Freeform, Death, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have A Dog, F/F, Flashbacks, Implied Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, Murder, Revenge, Stabbing, Violence, and doesnt exactly make sense, called Kara, cause why not, this is written in a really weird format, you may have to read through a couple of times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22050394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlygone/pseuds/ghostlygone
Summary: A small smile tugged at her lips, pulling them up, and with the blood that coated her body she looked crazy. She looked dangerous. She looked sadistic. She ran her finger down the blade. The man looked horrified.Or, Eleven needs to take Revenge for her family.Or, a kinda-long-kinda-short, dark Eleven au
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Mentioned Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Mentioned Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Past Martin Brenner & Eleven | Jane Hopper
Series: Dark AU's [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569445
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	If I Have To, I'ma Be That Bitch (I'm That Motherfuckin' Bitch)

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS**  
> Lots of blood, mentions of suicide, major character deaths and graphic depictions of violence.
> 
> Title from THAT BITCH by Bea Miller.

She pads down the corridors, the lights flickering and the overpowering smell of rotting bodies making it all the more horrifying. The knife in her hands was sharpened and dripping blood, dripping it on the clean floors, dripping it on the dead bodies. There was an alarm blaring, red lights flashing in every corridor, the sound deafening, and there is muffled shouting coming from behind her. She doesn't take notice of anything but her target and her knife. She has been searching for this man for two years now, searching for him by herself. She's always alone now, always on the move, always silent unless she's screaming and shouting and swearing at the sky and suddenly, she's crying and on the floor and whispering _whywhywhywhywhywhy_. She never used to be alone. She used to be surrounded by people - her adopted family, her best friends, her girlfriend...and then her wife. But now there's no one.

No one to ask her how her day was.

(They're all the same now: find the man)

No one to kiss her good morning and goodnight.

(She barely sleeps now, what with her nightmares)

No one to ask what work was like. 

(She doesn't work anymore, she quit teaching to kill him instead)

No one to be herself around. 

(She doesn't know who she is anymore, not without her)

She walks forward, towards the room at the end of the hall. She knows he's in there. It's the room where it all started. The big hall where she and her sister would perform for him. The room where she created the gate. She can't wait to see him, to kill him, but she walks slowly, taking her time.

She's heard rumours about him, on her travels, following where he goes.

(He stole the fifty children that went missing in Tennessee)

(He was the reason that three factories blew up in Kansas)

(He isn't qualified to work)

(He's wanted by the government)

(He murdered a whole family in cold blood)

(He's not human)

(No one who meets him survives)

(He's cursed)

(He murdered his wife)

(His children died because he was experimenting on them)

(He's planning to create a weapon that could decimate the whole of Asia)

(He's mad)

(He's a sociopath)

(He can predict the future)

(He's going to be the cause of the Apocalypse)

(He's from a parallel world)

(He's turning children into murderers)

(He's the Devil's son)

(He killed the family of an employee because they left)

She takes another step forward, getting closer, closer.

(She remembers the night it happened. The night they all died)

She walks closer to the room, wiping the blood off the knife with her finger. She looks at it in fascination, the way it shines in the alarm lights mesmerising.

(She had gotten married only a month before.)

She stops to examine the dead body blocking her way. He had killed this one, not her. The body has no blood on it. He had strangled them.

(She was in Illinois, visiting her sister, that weekend.)

She only killed the ones that tried to stop her. She had killed too many.

(She had come back and unlocked the door.)

Straightening up, she kicks the body out of her way. No use leaving it in the middle of the hallway.

(She had noticed something was wrong, it was so, so quiet.)

She's nearly there now. So, so close. It will all be over by morning.

(She was met with a puddle of blood at the foot of the stairs.)

She senses a presence inside, waiting for something. Waiting for her.

(She had looked up)

She pushes the door wide open, entering the room like she would any other.

(She had seen Kara, lying, dead, at the top)

The man is standing at the window, looking out over the room where the gate once was.

(She had dropped her bags and ran up to the body)

They stay where they are for a while. As if frozen in Time.

(She had cradled her head in her lap)

They stand as if they are back in the Past. Back when she did his bidding and almost killed herself trying to please him.

(She had cried for Kara. She had been her first pet, and her wife's first dog.)

But they are not in the Past. They are in Now. 

(She sat there for a while, before taking the body down to the kitchen)

She often wishes she was in the Past. Maybe then she could change what had happened.

(She had been hit with worry about her wife then. She had started panicking)

Maybe she could've gotten rid of the gate earlier.

(She had run around the house, checking every room on the ground floor first)

Maybe she could've been there to see her best friend fall in love.

(She had used her powers to search for any life)

Maybe she could've been there to see her future wife arrive in her hometown.

(There had been none, and she had been praying for her to be out somewhere, anywhere)

But she was in Now, and she can only do one thing.

(She had gone to their room last, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be there)

She takes a step forward, breaking the hold the Past has on them.

(It had been futile to hope)

The man doesn't move, instead he tells her to look with him.

(She had seen her wife lying on the floor)

She walks up to the window and looks out, over the room. It brings back memories.

(She had seen the blood pooling out from the knife wounds in her stomach)

Memories of fighting. Of her family.

(She had run over to her, falling to her knees next to her)

He speaks again, the man, and he tells her a story.

(She had placed her head in her lap, cradling her, rocking her softly)

He tells her about his sick wife, how he wanted to cure her. How she died.

(Her wife takes a shaky breath, forcing her eyes open to look at her)

How his children got the same illness. How he experimented on them to find a cure.

(She listens as her wife tries to speak)

How he created a program to find a way to cure this sickness, even in the late stages of it.

(She quiets her, shushing her, telling her to save her breath)

How he took subjets children when they were born. To find a cure, he says. She doesn't believe him.

(She sings softly, sings their song)

He explains why he went to such lengths. He says...

(She'd cried, tears running down her face and a lump in her throat as she sang)

He says that he had given his wife the disease. That she had gotten it through him.

(She had felt her wife place her hand over hers, trying to comfort her)

That he had survived and she hadn't. That he had only survived because he had been exposed to something.

(She strokes her wife's hair, letting her hand tangle in the long locks)

That he had searched for it for years.

(And she sings, she sings and cries and comforts)

That he hadn't been able to find one. That he gave up.

(And it's all too much to take in)

But then he had found out about other worlds. He had used her to open a gate to the other worlds.

(And the blood, the blood, the blood)

And he hadn't meant to hurt anyone.

(There is so much blood, and she knows)

And he is so, so sorry. So, incredibly, fully, sorry. For everything. For the pain and torture he put them through. For driving her almost to suicide.

(She knows that at least one of them won't leave this room)

She can hear the words, can see his mouth shape them, can see his expression.

(At least, they won't leave alive)

But she knows, she can sense, that he isn't being honest. That he is mocking her in his own twisted, manic way.

(She kisses her forhead, wanting to comfort her as she lies there)

She knows what she has to do. What she wants to do. What is going to happen anyway.

(As she lies there, dying)

They stand in silence for a moment.

(She sees her lips moving, can feel her heartbeat slow ever so slightly)

She turns towards him and signs

(She leans closer, wanting to know what she's saying, and she hears one thing)

She signs one thing.

(I love you)

Bullshit.

(She whispers it back, and then she kisses her, softly and sweetly)

He stares in shock at her. He seems surprised that she's so perceptive.

(And then she goes limp in her arms)

He shouldn't be that surprised. He taught her to be perceptive, to notice every single detail.

(She can feel she's gone, that she's dead)

She scans him over, subtly, and sees he has no weapons.

(She breaks down then, grieving for her family)

She hates him. For the death he brought. For the thoughts he caused. The ones that led to her lying, almost dead, in her room. Surrounded by the red of blood.

(A couple of hours later, she drives to her adopted brother's house. He hadn't picked up the phone and she was worried. In fact, none of her family had picked up their phones. It was meant to be movie night at his house though, so maybe their phones were on silent? She hoped so, she deeply, deeply hoped so. She couldn't deal with anymore death today. She looked terrible. Her hair was messed up and her makeup was smudged. And she was covered in blood. She got there and let herself in, before walking into the living room)

She walks slowly forward, getting close enough that she could lift her hand and touch him.

(She steps in, and stops immediately. There, on the floor, lay her brother and his husband. And they each lay in a pool of blood. The redness of it surprises her. She can smell it in the air and the tang of iron takes over her senses. She kneels next to her brother and dips her fingers in the blood, covering them until you can't see them. She brings it up to her eyes, examining it. The little droplets on her wrist fascinated her. They looked dark, so very dark that they could almost be black, and the blood covering her hand- It was such a rich red that she was almost tempted to lick it, to see what it would taste like. She looked up then, and saw the bodies.)

He looks down at her, warily, as if expecting her to slap him. She would never slap him. It is too childish. Too...not enough pain for him.

(She walks through the eerily silent house, and stops at the kitchen door. There on the floor lay her older brother and his boyfriend and girlfriend. She doesn't seem to take in that their dead, she seems to be in a trance of some sort. She walks towards the middle of the room, where all their blood had gathered in a pool. She kneels down in the middle of it, sliding her arms in it until she's lying on the ground. the blood covering all of her. She lays there, silent and thoughtful, as she stares at the ceiling. She thinks back to her wedding day, only a month or so ago. They had gotten married on June 17th in Massachusetts, the first State in America to legalise same-sex marriage. Her and her then-girlfriend had been ecstatic, jumping around and planning everything to go as soon as possible - they didn't know whether or not the law would be revoked, and they had waited long enough to get married. They had been together since they were fifteen. They had been together for eighteen years, and had only broken up once - and that was because she had moved away for a couple of months with her brother before they realised they had missed everyone too much. She was still lying there, covered in dried blood, when the police showed up. Not her dad, never her dad. He had died of a heart attack a couple of years back. She missed him so much, so, so much. She was lying there, beside her dead family, covered in their dried blood and she felt at peace. The metallic tang of blood cleared her head and the feel of it covering her skin grounded her. Now that her wife was gone, it was her anchor. It tied her to the earth when all she wanted to do was float off and follow her)

She took one last step forward, one tiny step. And she was ready. She was so ready.

(The next day she vowed to kill him. She hadn't told the police anything, hadn't said a word since she had told her wife she loved her. Had promised not to say another word to another person until it was done. Until he was dead.)

She brought the knife up to her face and turned it so it shone in the dim lights. A small smile tugged at her lips, pulling them up, and with the blood that coated her body she looked crazy. She looked dangerous. She looked sadistic. She ran her finger down the blade. The man looked horrified, as if he wasn't expecting it to go in this direction. Maybe he hadn't expected it, but she had. She had studied his behaviour over the last two years and knew how he would act, what he would do, what he'd say. It was pitiful, really, that this man, who knew how to pick up the slightest changes in a stranger, didn't think that he would be observed too, despite so many people knowing him, and the majority of them hating him. She looked at him, through her eyelashes, for a second. And she plunged the knife through his stomach.

A gasp leaves his mouth as the knife cuts through his flesh, going through his organs and out the other side, scraping along the bottom of his ribs on the way through. She twists it with a sick smile on her face, blood pouring out of his wound, flowing over her hands and coating them with yet another layer of blood. She had killed plenty of people, but they were strangers and she had used her powers. This, this was personal, and she was killing him the way he killed her family. By stabbing them, deep and painful. A painful death if the killer wants it to be. She yanks it out, making sure to catch his ribs with the serrated edge, and he falls to the ground, shock covering his face. The night is going in a very different direction than he had planned for. She kneels next to him, smiling even more at the scared expression on his face. Slowly, she raises the knife to his neck, resting it on his Adams apple. He gulps, and she revels in the fear in his eyes. She slides the knife to his chest, applying only the lightest amount of pressure. She stops there, to watch the blood flooding out of his stomach. He doesn't have too long, but she can do what she wants while he's still alive. She begins to slide the knife down again, this time pressing it down. Hard. Blood follows the knife, flowing from the line she cuts, and suddenly he's having trouble breathing and she is so, so, so fucking happy. He's dying and suddenly it's as if her wife is alive, as if everyone she had ever loved is alive. And she's finally fucking free. 

He gasps, breathy and harsh, and suddenly she's back, Here and Now, and her only wish is to kill him, to kill him and end this, to end this and be happy. She gets the knife from where she left it, lying on the floor. She places it on his neck, pressing down slowly, harder and harder until blood is spurting out and then she draws it across in a quick motion. His head falls back, and there's a quiet gargle and suddenly he's gone limp and its over, it's fucking over, and oh my god it feels so good, and wow, she hasn't felt this good in years, and-

A gunshot rings out and she jerks forward, chest first. She falls back, so she's lying in his blood and staring at the ceiling, and it reminds her of that day. Her chest feels cold and wet and she looks down, and her chest is bright red, flooded with blood which is still pumping out of her veins. She looks towards the door and sees one of his employees holding a gun. He looks shocked, as if he hadn't meant to shoot her, but she's okay with it. She's so fucking okay with it, she doesn't even care she's fucking dying because she's _dying_ and honestly, she can't wait to see her family again, to be actually fucking happy. She smiles the widest smile she has ever smiled. And for the first time in two years, she speaks an actual word.

"Max"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed and you all have a wonderful 2020!
> 
> Also, should this be rated as Mature or Explicit?


End file.
